


Tosh and Owen Save Christmas

by DinoDina



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, Owen's alive, Rift (Torchwood), Sort Of, because I said so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:29:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21958897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DinoDina/pseuds/DinoDina
Summary: In which Tosh and Owen do exactly what it says on the tin and have fun doing it.
Relationships: Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Owen Harper/Toshiko Sato, sort of - Relationship
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	Tosh and Owen Save Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to gmariam for inspiring the premise and to cozsheep for letting me use her awesome art (https://cozsheep.tumblr.com/post/189569693477/torchwood-is-the-real-santa) as inspiration!

Tosh and Owen left the tourist office and proceeded down the quay to where Owen's car was. Unlike Jack, they didn't need the dramatic entrance and exit the invisible lift provided, and it was much easier to physically lock the office rather than remotely. Old-fashioned locks—with a bit of Torchwood help—worked well enough.

It was late Christmas Eve. The year's crisis was going to happen in London the next day, so it was alright to leave the Hub unguarded. It would have been one of them there, anyway: Ianto was laid up in hospital, and Jack had been butting antlers with Gwen for the entirety of his time there.

Not that it was anything new. Gwen hadn't stopped pushing Jack all year: she'd challenged Jack's choices when dealing with Beth Halloran, had brought Rhys into Torchwood against orders, had practically thrown a tantrum when she'd found out he'd destroyed Cell 114, and had hounded him for days about Jonah Bevan until she'd uncovered Jack's hospital at Flat Holm.

"Do you think it's safe to visit Ianto now?"

Jack and Gwen had been glaring daggers at each other the last time she and Owen had visited, and the atmosphere had been so tense, they'd been relieved for the Rift alert that had them scurrying away.

Owen snorted. "When was the last time you knew Gwen to let go? And if she's gone, you know Jack's brooding or guarding Ianto's room."

Tosh tried not to laugh at that. It wasn't very funny.

Every time Jack and Gwen had a power struggle, they were suck in the middle. She was getting sick of it.

"What say we chance it, pick up some flowers on the way?" Owen did his best to look nonchalant as he offered Tosh his arm.

"I didn't know you cared," she said as she accepted, keeping up the pretense.

Owen looked ready to reply, so Tosh turned slightly to see him better.

Which was when there was an explosion over the bay and she turned him forcefully to see it as well.

"What was that?"

The shock on Owen's face was quickly replaced by annoyance. "Fuck, that's what it is. Do you know how to drive the boat?"

"I might be able to figure it out." Tosh didn't feel very confident about that. She looked over the bay again, which, though still smoking, looked calm. "I can engineer a self-steering program fairly quickly, provided the water stays favorable. I can't imagine we'll be meeting anything hostile in the wreck."

"Wreck?"

"Something violently crashed into the bay, what do _you_ think it is?"

"Good point." Owen sighed. "Back to the Hub?"

Tosh nodded. They had their guns on them—because they were Torchwood and there was no rest for the weary in Torchwood—but they'd need more than that to investigate something that might not even have come from the Rift. For all they knew, the Christmas invasion had decided to arrive early and had misnavigated. Access to the Torchwood boat was only possible from the Hub for security purposes. Tosh just hoped that her and Owen's credentials were enough to take it out.

The Hub came to life around them. Tosh stopped at her computer to read the energy signatures from the crash and create a steering program for the boat while Owen gathered various scanners. With Ianto out of commission, they'd need a cover story—probably fireworks, given the holiday. Cardiff's public wasn't too picky about the information it was fed, so long as they weren't killed. It was considerate of them.

Tosh worked quickly and soon she and Owen were walking down to where the boat was kept. It was a different dock than the one that housed their submarine—and it had been surprise enough that Torchwood owned a submarine labelled with the company name—and was much closer a walk.

"Right." Tosh took a deep breath before getting aboard. Mercifully, the Rift didn't open much over the Bay: she had coordinated seafaring alerts, but that was the extent of her experience.

Beside her, Owen was looking decidedly green. He wore a lifejacket like hers and held a bag of scanners, medical equipment and weapons in one hand.

"Happy Christmas, right?" he grumbled as he led the way in getting established.

Tosh hooked up the program to the boat's satellite—bless Torchwood's predictability with its passwords—and opened the door that would take them out to the bay. The water was already dark but the smoke in the distance was a clear beacon. Tosh looked down to read the navigation.

"Should be ten minutes."

"Good," Owen ground out between his teeth. He was holding tightly onto the railing with one hand and said when he caught Tosh's eye: "I've got nothing against boats or water. But how long's this thing been rusting down there? It's not up to health and safety, I can tell you that for sure."

Tosh nodded. "Of course."

They covered the distance to the site quickly. Even in the evening light, it was easy to see the smoking remains of something wooden. Splinters of it floated, most smoldering and some still on fire.

"There's something for dragging water in the archives, right?" Tosh dreaded going back to the Hub.

She was surprised that Owen grinned and started rifling through his bag. "I've got it right here."

"You've been spending too much time with Ianto!"

"No, I haven't," Owen snapped, lifting a hand to stop Tosh's giggles. "He's the one that's got it labelled under 'alerts on the bay', I just follow the signs."

He lifted the device, which was much smaller than Tosh expected. It was oval-shaped, with a space for holding it that vaguely resembled a handle and several buttons on what seemed to be the top. Tosh wondered how it functioned without a net of some kind—probably some sort of energy signature that latched onto foreign material in the water and drew them together.

"There's supposed to be a wood setting," Owen mumbled as he began to press buttons, clearly with no idea what they meant or what he was aiming for.

Two buttons later, something lit up, he let out an "Aha!" and was promptly thrown to the side by something large, red, and definitely not a piece of wooden debris.

Tosh had her gun out and pointed at the alien before it had even clambered off Owen, but when she met it face to face, she wavered.

"Owen!" she hissed.

She didn't feel comfortable shooting a Father Christmas look-alike.

Owen clambered up from the floor with a grunt and pointed his own gun at the alien. He faltered a bit when the similarity sunk in but didn't seem to have Tosh's qualms and only glared harder at it, seeming determined to attack if provoked.

Father Christmas tilted his head reproachfully. "That's not a good way to stay on the Nice List."

"Stuff it." Owen growled. "Tosh?"

"Running it." She waited for the ping of her palm pilot to tell her what sort of alien they were facing. "Don't move."

"I wasn't planning on it." Father Cristmas smiled, looking the picture of peace.

"Owen."

He hesitated. Tosh's expression looked urgent—just a step away from panicked—but he didn't want to move and leave the alien uncovered.

"It's alright, my boy, I'm not going anywhere."

Owen tensed his jaw to keep from saying or doing something he might regret but did as the alien said and moved over to look at the reading. He exchanged a look with Tosh and they both looked at the alien.

"If your device is saying 'unknown'," Father Christmas said helpfully, "then it's probably just outdated. But if it says 'Father Christmas', it's correct. As you can see, I've had a bit of an accident."

"What, broken your sleigh?"

"Exactly." He smiled at Owen. "I don't suppose you could help me?"

"How'd we know you are who you say you are?" Owen demanded. "Could just be trying to kill us."

Father Christmas—because that was exactly what Tosh's tech had identified him as—didn't grace Owen with a response and instead turned to Tosh. "The presents are all alright, I just have no way of dispensing them."

Owen wasn't in a generous mood. But he didn't look ready to make the call, either, so it was on Tosh. She fought the urge to sigh. She _was_ the senior agent, technically, and she had little time to debate. If Father Christmas was correct, they only had a few hours to help him—to help Christmas. If he was wrong, they risked putting Cardiff in danger. But what else was new?

"Owen?"

He swallowed. Another second, and he lowered his gun. "Fine."

Father Christmas beamed at him.

"Stay where I can see you," Owen warned him, "I'm still not convinced you're telling the truth. So what happened? I've never heard of your magic sleigh breaking. Where's the presents?"

"Why does the equipment identify you as Father Christmas?" Tosh asked. "Are you a unique entity?"

"Good questions," he said approvingly. He looked around and pointed to a bench near the center of the boat. "May I?"

Tosh nodded.

"Thank you." He rearranged his long red robe as he sat, then extended a smile to Owen, as well as Tosh. "Yes, you could say that I'm unique. As for the sleigh—it's not a vehicle _I_ would have chosen, but you can't argue with tradition. Stop pacing, my boy, I'm telling you what happened. You should really watch your attitude, you know: the Naughty List isn't something to joke around with. As I was saying, my sleigh didn't handle the latest journey through your Rift very well. As you can see."

Tosh chanced a glance at the debris floating around their boat. While it was possible that there was something in the archives that could repair it, she didn't know them that well, and it was also possible that there was nothing there and they would waste precious hours on a dead end.

"You use the Rift to travel?" she asked as she thought of a solution.

Father Christmas nodded. He rummaged in a pocket for a surprisingly long time and emerged with what looked like a remote. "This protects me and the sleigh as we travel, but I must have jostled it, because one moment everything's fine, and the next thing I know, I'm dragged from the water onto your ship. Where exactly am I?"

"Cardiff." Owen sneered. "Wales. _Earth_."

"Thank you." Father Christmas did not comment on Owen's rudeness. "I don't suppose you could help me? You are Torchwood, after all."

A darker thought passed through Tosh's mind, but she chased it away. _Of course_ Father Christmas knew about Torchwood. He knew about everything—as far as she knew. It was probable enough to be true.

"We should take him back to the Hub," Owen said to Tosh, then turned to Father Christmas. "Do you need your sleigh pieces?"

"I'd like to at least take them home."

"Right." Owen picked up the tech he'd tried to use on the debris and fiddled around with it before pointing it at the bay once more. "The presents in the bay, too?"

"Of course not." Father Christmas looked slightly offended, but when he reached into in pocket, his eyes were sparkling. He took out a small, red, velvet drawstring pouch. "They're in here."

"Bigger on the inside."

"That's right." He looked at Tosh with a fatherly pride.

She tried not to be too flattered, but she had just been complimented by Father Christmas. That was something to write home about. She focused on her palm pilot and kept the boat steady as Owen found the right button—he let out another "Aha!"—and a pile of burnt wood collected on the deck. He must have pressed the wrong button previously, to have summoned Father Christmas.

"Ready?"

Owen nodded and gripped the railing.

Tosh wasn't considering a boating or navigation career anytime soon, but it was her first time on a boat: successful, overall. Father Christmas even thanked her as he disembarked—he'd put the pieces of his sleigh into a pocket within the folds of the robe—and Owen patted her arm as he followed.

Tosh entered the Hub last, locking the dock behind her. When she joined Owen and Father Christmas in the main Hub, Father Christmas was sitting on the sofa and Owen was giving him tea.

She raised an eyebrow at Owen, who made a face telling her not to ask. He'd tell her later. Probably.

Working was had without Ianto's coffee, but Owen's tea was almost enough to make up for it. It was a conditional tea, however, as Owen refused to leave any evidence that he'd made it and didn't serve it to Gwen or Jack when they were fighting. With just the two of them—and now Father Christmas—in the Hub, however, she was being regularly plied with tea and falling more and more in love with Owen as a result.

A cup appeared at her desk soon after, being the necessary elixir to get her through helping Father Christmas.

She searched the archives database—what so far existed of it, as she and Ianto were compiling and refining it—for anything that could repair wood. There were a few things that could repair various metals and one that targeted stone. Tosh had long suspected that most tech just wasn't built for wood, and turned sadly to Father Christmas.

"What's the deal with the presents?" Owen was saying.

"I deliver them. Not to everyone. Sometimes people don't believe and presents are already bought, so I whip up surprises: extra money found in the street, order mix-ups at restaurants, lost objects found during cleaning." He paused and continued in a deadly serious tone: "I've got to deliver those gifts tonight."

Owen walked over and leaned against Tosh's chair. "Tell me you've got something."

Tosh would wait to comment on Owen's sudden support of Father Christmas once they'd finished helping him. The problem was, she wasn't sure how do deal with it. Though she hadn't grown up believing in Father Christmas, Tosh couldn't deny the nostalgia that thinking of him brought; she didn't want to let him down.

"I don't think we can repair it," she said as quietly as she could.

"Shit."

"Yeah."

"What's going to happen if he misses Christmas?"

"Hopefully nothing, but I'm not sure." Tosh took off her glasses and chewed thoughtfully on an ear. "For all we know, him coming every Christmas keeps the world turning. You miss one small detail and everything's upended. Short of building him another sleigh, I'm not sure what we can do."

Owen screwed up his face and thought.

At that moment, Father Christmas came over. His robe brushed the floor and would have been covered in dust—perhaps would have even gotten stuck in the grating—but Tosh could see that there was something protecting it. It was an interesting bit of tech but Tosh would wait to ask about it.

"I know you're both working hard," he said apologetically, "but I couldn't help noticing that you look disappointed. There's only a few hours left until midnight—I don't go out earlier than midnight on Christmas—and I'm usually short on time as it is. It takes time to get used to a new or fixed sleigh, and I'm afraid that if I go out later, I won't be able to deliver all of the presents."

"New sleigh?" Owen echoed at the same time that Tosh turned around, an idea already forming in her head.

"How exactly does your sleigh work?" she asked.

"It runs on solar energy. Charges for the whole year." Father Christmas rummaged in a pocket and took out what looked like a small remote. "It's stored in here. Like a battery?"

Tosh nodded.

"And I connect it to the sleigh. It's quite simple. The problem is that the amount of energy requires is enormous. I travel all around the world, making stops at millions of houses, in a single night. The sleigh is built specifically to withstand the strain."

"Would you be able to make a new sleigh?" Owen asked.

Father Christmas looked doubtful for a moment then decisively shook his head. "While it _may_ be possible to construct a sleigh, I wouldn't be able to guarantee its safety or durability."

"What about something other than a sleigh?"

"What are you thinking?" Owen said in tandem with Father Christmas, his rough London accent overpowering Father Christmas's deep and smooth voice.

"Most Torchwood vehicles—the SUVs, the boat, the sub, I'm even sure we have a plane somewhere—are built with alien technology. Specifically for safety and durability. They can survive Jack's driving, which is more than enough of a stress test. If we can hook up your battery to some sort of vessel, I don't see why you can't deliver your presents." Tosh didn't hide her self-satisfied smile. Hard problems required simple solutions. "What would work best?"

"It has to be moderately compact, suited to varied terrains, and capable of precise stops. I know you're very capable, Toshiko, but—" Father Christmas gave a sudden jolly laugh and shook his head. "What am I saying? Of course you can. Do you can anything that I can use? I'll need help calibrating it to get it in the air on time."

Owen's face lit up when Tosh looked at him for suggestions. "Jack won't miss an SUV."

"Jack _will_ miss an SUV." Tosh grinned and turned to Father Christmas. "How do you feel about delivering presents in an SUV?"

"One of those black, hulking cars?"

"It has our logo on the side," Owen put in helpfully.

"We can find something festive for it if that's your only worry."

"We can?" Owen hissed at the same time as Father Christmas gave a decisive nod.

Father Christmas offered Tosh his arm as she stood up to go with him to the garage. She took it and said over her shoulder to Owen, "You can find the decorations. I think Gwen brought something in."

Tosh heard Owen's grumbling even as they walked away from each other.

As she'd thought, Father Christmas was aesthetically disappointed in the SUV. He even commented on the Torchwood label on its side, but once he'd examined the alien enhancements, he was less snide.

Working around the alien tech crammed into the car was harder than it seemed. With Tosh's assistance, Father Christmas hooked up his battery to the SUV with an hour to spare until midnight.

"Owen should have the decorations by now." Tosh looked with satisfaction at the SUV. Torchwood wouldn't be getting it back for another two years: it would ride this year, then charge on the battery for the next while Father Christmas rebuilt his sleigh to be used later.

"Wonderful!"

The decorations Owen had produced were less than wonderful. He held fairy lights, antlers, and a red sphere.

"Gwen brought in the lights, and I found this—" he broke off to display the antlers and sphere, which lit up "—downstairs. I think Suzie brought it in to get a rise out of Jack once. The antlers go onto the SUV, the red thing goes in the front. Bam: Rudolph."

Even Tosh cringed at the decoration. She missed Suzie on days like this, especially remembering the good times. She thought Suzie—if she could—would appreciate her gift being put to use after so many years. She didn't even want to think of what Jack would say when he found out what they'd done to his SUV. She made a note to take a picture before Father Christmas left.

In a sudden burst of bitterness, Tosh thought that Jack deserved it. He'd been awful recently, only taking breaks from arguing with Gwen to worry about Ianto—it was Christmas! For that alone, she and Owen deserved time off from office politics. It was an annoying end to a frustrating year; Tosh exchanged a look with Owen, saw the sentiment echoed in his face, and resolved to talk to Jack about effective leadership when everything calmed down.

"I like it," Father Christmas said. He turned on his heel and walked back to the garage, robe fluttering behind him.

Owen followed him at a slight jog and Tosh brought up the rear.

She got to the garage in time to see Owen sit back on his heels after attaching the red sphere—a _nose_ —to the front of the SUV. On either side of it, the fairy lights were wrapped outside the front grating, twinkling merrily and waiting to blind the three of them. The antlers poked out of the sides of the car, on top of the doors.

She giggled and snapped a picture.

Owen, meanwhile, was stepping back from Father Christmas, who had said something into his ear. He joined Tosh and watched as Father Christmas took his bag from an inside pocket of his robe, looking like he was about to perform a magic trick.

And he did: the bag was suddenly bigger, and when Father Christmas placed it in the back of the SUV, several large wrapped boxes poked out of the open top. Tosh suspected there more presents inside—the bag was bigger on the inside and must also have been shrunk down temporarily before Father Christmas had gotten stuck in the Rift.

"The presents," Father Christmas said proudly. He winked at them both, then climbed into the driver's seat. "Thank you!"

And he was off, driving at a speed that would make even Jack blush. Tosh ran after him, out onto the Plass, just in time to see the SUV in the sky, illuminated with the fairy lights and the glowing nose. She felt Owen's hand on her shoulder as she laughed happily.

"Happy Christmas, Tosh."

"Happy Christmas." She smiled up at him and tried not to flinch in surprise when Owen put an arm around her in a light hug. "You've changed your tune."

"What can I say, meeting Father Christmas can do that to a guy." He tried sounding nonchalant but it didn't work. "He brought me some presents when I was younger. Notebooks, once, with really nice pens, my first year at uni. And a bike when I was ten. Some stuff other years: toys, mostly."

"Is that what you were talking about with him?"

"Among other things."

"That's vague."

"I know." Father Christmas faded from view and Owen turned them around to head back to the Hub. "Come on, I'll take you home."

They shut down the Hub quickly—all they needed to do was turn off the computers and lock the garage, and when there was no arguing in the Hub, everything went smoothly—and headed out through the tourist office. The sky was dark and starry around them, cold as always in late December, but Owen's car wasn't far.

Tosh felt calm, almost unusually so: she'd met Father Christmas, had helped him, and had finished off the night with no casualties. How often did that happen in Torchwood?

She dozed through the short drive back to her flat, aware of her surroundings but mostly just resting against the window until Owen parked at the side of the building. They'd been driving in together recently, to spend more time with each other, and being friends made them work better together. The ache of liking Owen came and went but gone were the days of hopeless pining. Owen respected her; maybe even more.

Tosh shook those thoughts away and joined Owen outside the car.

She went up on her toes as they hugged and kissed his cheek. "Thank you."

"'Course." Owen smiled. "I'll pick you up tomorrow for breakfast before we go see Ianto. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

They stood there for a moment, Owen reluctant to get back into his car and Tosh reluctant to head inside, each not wanting to leave first. They moved simultaneously when they noticed, and by the time the door closed behind Tosh's back, Owen's car was at the end of the street.

In the morning, Tosh would find a large gift-wrapped box on her kitchen table with no information as to the sender. Owen would come up to her flat and get her, and they'd look up at the strategically-placed mistletoe in the doorway above their heads.

But now, Tosh entered her flat and headed straight to bed bidding goodbye to an eventful day and intent on sleeping until Christmas morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and happy holidays! And Christmas! (Disclaimer: I haven't actually celebrated Christmas so I've taken some liberties with my alien Father Christmas) And I definitely wasn't planning on being mean to Gwen, I love her, but I've been writing a Meat follow-up, so I've been a bit annoyed :P


End file.
